Dawn on a Distant Shore (22 page)

"Please pardon my
intrusion, madam, but I understand you are in need of passage to
Montréal."

A gentleman,
deferential of manner, with a kind smile and a face to make anyone gasp in horror.
Elizabeth had never seen any person quite so ill-favored by nature, without a
single normal or well-turned feature. But his accent marked him for a man of
breeding and education, his etched silver buttons and Holland linen for a
wealthy merchant with excellent taste, and there was a sharp intelligence in
his mild eyes.

"Shove off!"
barked Mac Stoker from the gangplank. "By what right d'you come stickin'
that ugly gob of yours in me business?"

Captain Stoker might
have been invisible for all the attention the stranger paid. His respectful expression
remained, his head bobbing deferentially to his sunken chest, hands wound
together before him. Elizabeth followed his example, and inclined her head.
"You have me at a disadvantage, sir."

"I beg your
indulgence for a moment, madam, and pray you will pardon the necessity of such
an informal introduction. Horace Pickering at your service. I bring word from
your cousin, Viscount Durbeyfield."

Elizabeth felt herself
flush with excitement. "From Will! Sir, this is good news indeed. What report
does my cousin send?"

He lifted one shoulder
in an apology. "He asked me to keep an eye out for you, and if I should
see you here, to take you and your charges to meet him--in Montréal. Time is of
the essence, as he put it to me. If I may point out the
Nancy
? You see
we docked not a half hour ago."

A great calm moved
through Elizabeth: their luck had finally turned. "The
Nancy
is
your vessel?"

Stoker snorted, but
Pickering only bowed again. "I am her captain for the moment." And at
Elizabeth's brow, raised in tacit request for more detail, he inclined his
head. "The
Nancy
is available for my use while I conclude some
business for my employer in Canada. The ship I command is at dock in Québec."

If Stoker were not
breathing down her back, Elizabeth might have been able to formulate the many questions
that needed to be asked--foremost and most important, how this man knew Will,
and why someone of such obvious position would take on this task. Will could
not have told him of their business in Montréal, and so neither could she
mention it to him. As it was, she did not have the luxury of a longer interview.
"Your timing is excellent, sir. I am delighted to accept your kind offer
of assistance."

"We came to an
agreement!" Stoker roared.

"Mr.
Stoker," Elizabeth said. "The cost of passage on the
Jackdaw
is too high."

Stoker went suddenly
silent, his face as icy cold as his tone. "You think passage on the
Nancy
will come any cheaper? There's more than one kind of pirate on the St.
Lawrence, me darlin'."

Captain Pickering
cleared his throat roughly, but Elizabeth held up her hand, wanting to settle
her business with Mac Stoker on her own terms.

"Pirates are the
least of my problems, Mr. Stoker." She managed a polite nod. "Captain
Pickering, I must return to my children momentarily--"

The captain produced a
broad smile that showed off a row of tiny white teeth. "May I be of
assistance?"

Elizabeth saw Stoker's
gaze on her. She wanted to ignore him but his expression, all knowing
condescension, made it very difficult.

"Thank you, sir.
But we will come to the
Nancy
as soon as we are able."

He bowed, and over his
back Mac Stoker winked at her.

Elizabeth ran up the
stairs of the public house with her skirts held high, pulled forward by the
angry howling of two hungry infants.

"Thank the
Lord," said Curiosity, thrusting Daniel toward her. "These children
just about turnin' themselves inside out."

Hannah was at her
elbow, tugging gently on her sleeve. "Is everything all right?"

"We have reliable
passage to Montréal," Elizabeth said. "On a fine ship called the
Nancy
.
I believe you can see her colors from here. Ouch!" She shifted Daniel to a
more comfortable position, and accepted Lily from Curiosity. When the twins had
settled to their task, she looked up. Curiosity was studying her with a combination
of worry and doubt.

"Thought you went
to talk to that Stoker."

"We could not
come to terms," Elizabeth said. "We are much better off on the
Nancy
,
even so. It was my cousin Will who sent Captain Pickering to fetch us."

"Hmmpf."
Curiosity picked up a clean but damp winding cloth and shook it out with a
snap. "How did he manage that, I wonder?"

Elizabeth would have
told Curiosity more, if it were not for Hannah. But she could not speak of the gallows
in Montréal in front of the child, as much as it would ease her own burden to
share the news. "Will would not have engaged Captain Pickering's services
if he were not sure of his reputation. He is wellborn, and a gentleman."

"Richard Todd's a
gentleman, too," Curiosity reminded her. "And he caused you enough grief."

Hannah had been
following the whole exchange with a sober expression. "Runs-from-Bears
will be with us," she said. "We will be safe."

"Yes," said
Elizabeth. "Bears is waiting downstairs. As soon as we're ready he'll go
down with you to the
Nancy
."

"And where will
you be, missy, while we're doin' that?" Curiosity was staring at her as if
she were sixteen and bent on illicit escapades.

"I have some
inquiries to make," said Elizabeth. "There is still the matter of
getting out of Montréal again when our business is done there. I will not be an
hour, I promise. We sail at sunset."

Hannah's cool hand on
her shoulder, all her worry flowing clear as a cold spring down Elizabeth's
spine. She turned her head and kissed the smooth copper skin. "All is well,
Squirrel," she said in Kahnyen'kehâka. "I promise you."

Gallows at the
garrison gaol
,
whispered another voice inside her. Elizabeth rubbed her cheek against Hannah's
hand, and willed the voice away.

She was only a hundred
feet away from the
Jackdaw
when Runs-from-Bears caught her up; Elizabeth
sensed him even before she turned around.

"I thought you
were going to see the others to the
Nancy
," she said, trying to
strike a normal tone of voice and cursing the color that rose on her cheeks.

"An officer came
from the ship for them," he said. "I was more worried about you, Bone-in-Her-Back."

Elizabeth straightened
her shoulders. "You of all people know very well that I am able to take
care of myself, Bears."

He blinked at her, his
face immobile, and Elizabeth knew that he would wait for her to tell him what
he wanted to hear until the sunset. His patience was without end, she knew this
from experience. Elizabeth let her shoulders roll forward. "This is
something I must do on my own, Bears."

"The Irishman is
trouble," he said. "We do not need him."

Elizabeth glanced
around herself, and lowered her voice. "But we do. How are we going to get
away from Montréal, once the men are free? He has a ship, he knows the waters,
and for the right money he will not ask difficult questions, as Pickering would
most certainly do."

Bears pursed his
mouth. After a moment he said, "I do not like it."

"Nor do I. I like
none of this."

He narrowed his eyes
at her. "Let us go talk to him, then. There is not much time."

She pushed out a heavy
sigh. "Very well," she said, wondering that she could be both
relieved and ill at ease. Elizabeth smoothed her hair and then she met his
gaze, full on. "Mr. Stoker knows about Jack Lingo."

Runs-from-Bears
grunted softly. "That is just why I am coming with you. Look, he is
waiting."

Sweet Mac Stoker stood
on the deck of his ship, hands on hips, watching them. Elizabeth pulled herself
up to her full height, and went to meet him.

"Mr.
Stoker," she began. "We were wondering if we might engage your
services in another matter."

He grinned. "For
the right price, darlin'. For the right price. Come along, and we'll
talk."

Elizabeth and
Runs-from-Bears came to the
Nancy
just as the sun was about to set.
Above their heads the first star showed itself in a sky that melted from blue
to rose; on the horizon a group of willows and crab apples showed tender green sprinkled
with white blossoms. Overhead, gulls turned and spun, calling to one another. Captain
Pickering was at the rail to offer Elizabeth his arm as she stepped onto the
shining oak deck, his poor face as bad as she had remembered it. But both the
captain and his ship were in impeccable condition, so that for the first time
in days Elizabeth was acutely aware of the shocking state of her traveling
clothes. And still Pickering bent to her hand as if she were dressed for presentation
at court; if he noticed that she was trembling he gave no sign of it.

"You honor us,
madam. I trust your business has been favorably concluded?"

How strange and
vaguely comforting to deal with Englishmen again, who needed so many words for
so little purpose. But she was thankful to this man with his unfortunate face
and his kind eyes, and so she nodded politely. "As well as can be
expected, thank you."

Elizabeth introduced
Runs-from-Bears to the captain, the whole time observing how Hannah bounced
impatiently on the balls of her feet as if she would fling herself into the
heavens. Even Curiosity's doubts had been laid to rest, if the expression on
her face was any indication.

The captain was all
condescension and good manners. "I will leave you to your family," he
said, bowing. "There is time enough to meet my officers and the ... other
passengers. I hope my cabin will be satisfactory, but if there is anything you desire
..." Andwitha funny little smile he bowed and withdrew, leaving the
question of Elizabeth's desires unresolved.

"Well, I hope
this will serve," Elizabeth said grimly to a beaming Curiosity. "For otherwise
we shall have to steal a dinghy and row to Montréal ourselves. Hannah, you are
flushed. Have you had a look at the cabin?"

"Yes, we
have," answered Curiosity for them both. "And we like it fine. Don't
we, child?"

"Oh, yes,"
said Hannah, almost laughing out loud. "We put the babies down, but maybe
you should go check on them."

Elizabeth looked
between them. "What has got into you both?"

"Gettin' closer
to home, is all," said Curiosity, putting a hand on Elizabeth's arm and
pivoting her toward the steps that would take her to Pickering's cabin.

Elizabeth went, with a
glance over her shoulder to Hannah, who was still grinning absurdly as she tugged
on Bears' arm, chattering at him in Kahnyen'kehâka. It had been a very long
day, too long to pursue whatever was at the bottom of this strange behavior.
Passage on the
Nancy
was certainly a piece of the best good luck, but it
did not change what was to come: they had built gallows in Montréal. It was a sentence
that jangled in her head like loose coin, there at every turn with no escape.

She passed through the
narrow and dimly lit corridor to Pickering's quarters, blinded now by the last
of the sunlight that sifted through the shutters in flickering bars. Elizabeth
made out the narrow bed, the table set with silver and linen for supper, a desk
of gleaming mahogany, its cubbyholes spilling paper. And on the far side of the
room, a man in a rough white linen shirt and dark breeches bent over the basket
where the babies slept. A sharp shiver of fear slid up Elizabeth's spine. She
looked around herself for some kind of weapon, but he had already heard her.

His head came up as he
turned, the long line of his back straightening.

Nathaniel. Elizabeth
stepped backward, feeling the door at her shoulder, so solid and real. She
blinked, and still he was there: Nathaniel. He touched the basket as if to
steady himself and she recognized his hand as she would her own: the turn of
his wrist, the long, strong fingers. The muscles worked along the column of his
neck as he swallowed convulsively and swallowed again.

"Aren't you going
to talk to me?" he whispered from the other side of the cabin, ten feet
and an eternity away.

Her hands were shaking
so badly that she had to clasp them together, hard enough to make her wince. "Are
you real?"

His smile was so
familiar and full of joy that it burned her to look at him.

"Never doubt it,
Boots." Suddenly he was in front of her, his hands closing around her
upper arms as her knees began to give way. He smelled of strong soap and of his
sweet self, Nathaniel. He leaned down to her, his hair swinging forward to
touch her cheek.

"I am real,"
he said. "And by God, wife, so are you."

She might have
answered him but he cut her off. He was all a blur to her, for she would not
close her eyes even as her mouth went soft and open and slack with want and
need to meet him. Then Nathaniel broke away and wiped her wet cheeks with his
fingers, crooning small comforting sounds. And he kissed her again, the taste
of him sending small shocks into every corner of her being.